The Wild Heart
by Kalek
Summary: Hanna returns to the woods of her childhood, looking for closure. But she finds something else entirely. "Looking into the eyes of her nightmare, she thought one thing. 'Beautiful.' As he leaned in, she heard him whisper, 'you're mine.'
1. Chapter 1

**The Wild Heart**

Chapter One

**There's No Peace in the Wild**

_Flathead National Forest_

I used to feel at peace in the forest. It was quiet, unassuming; and the wildlife minded its own business. But better than that, was my father's cabin. It lied deep in the forest, where few people go. We used to go there in the summer. Dad and I would leave our house in small old Martin City, where population count was only 331, and would drive our battered old hot rod down to Coram, and check it into 'Garry's garage', so that we could hike across, 'the Flathead national forest' to our cabin.  
>Ethan Fletcher was my father's name and we spent many happy summers in the forest, surrounded by nature, before he died.<br>I am his daughter Hannah Fletcher, and it's been ten years since his murder. It's taken me a decade to muster the courage to go back to the cabin, the place where my father died.

The trees were densely packed, and grew to great heights, with their leaves covering the floor like confetti. Golden columns of light broke through the canopy, revealing huge motes, which reminded me of fairy dust. The occasional rabbit raced past, and the birds sang in the heights. My combats stopped the nettles from stinging my legs, and I wore a white tank top to keep me cool. My back pack was strapped loosely to my back, and I wore my white school shirt around my waist.  
>Nothing had changed in the forest, it seemed like time had stopped here, and I felt thrown back into the past. My fingers brushed an ancient Larch tree my father and I used to picnic under.<p>

I closed my eyes, as a heaving sense of grief took hold. I was seventeen now. I was seven when it happened. No kid should have to go through what I did, or see what I saw. I was closing in on the cabin now; it was just out of sight. I looked up at the clear sky, through the tree canopy and sighed. At least I chose a good day to come.

Montana was in the middle of a heat wave, which was quite rare with its changeable climate.  
>Hoping the weather would keep, I continued on, before breaking through the forest into a small clearing, surrounded by trees. In the middle of the glade, the light wooden cabin was shining in the sun. Taking a deep breath I walked towards the small house, wild grass and flowers had taken hold of the little clearing, and scaled the house, it grew as high as my knees at some places.<br>No one had been here for a long time, probably since my father's murder. As I reached the porch, I half expected to see my father, on the floor, two bloody marks on his throat. The mortician said the marks were made with some sort of vicious syringe, which used some sort of pressurised system to take his blood.  
>The police had had practically no leads, they had monitored the black market for my father's blood type, but came up short, in a few months the investigation fizzled out, and my father's murder was left unsolved.<p>

After that, I never felt the same; I lived my life in a world of grief and horror, which no one could understand. Everyone tried to comfort me, tried to say how sorry they felt. But no one understood. I didn't want their apologies; they weren't the ones that killed him. I wanted peace, I wanted revenge, but most of all, I wanted him back.

My mother didn't care; she was off in Texas with her new husband, living the good life with money earned by adult films, which my 'step father' produced, and directed.  
>Only my godfather really cared. Tom had been my father's best man at dad's wedding, so long ago, before my mother and father had split up. After dad died, Tom had taken me in. He tried to be like a father to me, and since my mother didn't want me, and my grandparents were dead, he had the right to look after me, which was lucky, seeing as he was the only one who really cared about me, or my father.<p>

Reaching the solid wooden door, I pushed hard, expecting the hinges to be rusted shut. However, the door swung inward, leaving me sprawled inside the cabin. Looking up, I drew my breath. Apart from a little radio, everything was how it had been on that night. The table was in the same place, it was still set for two, and the old sofa hadn't moved. Hyperventilating, my feet felt like lead, as I walked through the room, over the antique Ivory black rug, and past the red wood dinner table.  
>I reached the radio, which was perched on top of the nineteenth century wine cabinet my father had bought from a local auction. Moving the radio, I placed it on top of the fireplace, by the old sofa, so that everything was the same. Pushing down the button on the radio, I half expected the same song as on that night to radiate statically from the worn out box. But I was greeted by the sound of rap music. Sighing, I turned off the noise, and stood there, remembering.<p>

**_Ten years ago_**

'Hanna,' dad yawned, from the sofa by the fireplace. 'I'm going to the porch for a bit, I'll fall asleep if I sit here any longer.'

Getting up, he looked over to me, a smile on his warm face. It was night outside, and was really cold, so I agreed.

'Sure dad, these noodles have another ten minutes left to cook anyway.'

He nodded, and walked outside, stretching as he went. After a few minutes of stirring the pot, and singing along to the radio, I noticed that the fire was running low.

'Dad, the fire is going out!' I called out.

No answer.

_He's fallen asleep_. I thought to myself, and threw a log on the fire.

Going back to stirring, I finished off preparing the meal. Glancing outside into the night, I climbed onto the kitchen desktop, so I could reach the top cupboard, taking out a white chocolate biscuit; I got back down, and ate it quickly, before dad came in. After finishing the treat, I felt satisfied. _Serves him right for hiding them,_ I thought.

'Dad diner's ready!' I called out.

No answer. Pretending to be angry with him, I stomped my way over to the door, and looked out. Dad was on the floor, in the strangest way, his arms and legs were spread out in weird directions. Nothing like how he normally slept.

_He's trying to trick me_, I realised,_ he is going to try and make me jump_.

I put my hand over my mouth to cover my grin.

_You aren't going to surprise me now_.

Putting my hands on my hips, I adopted an angry posture.

'If you keep pretending to be asleep,' I barked out, 'then the food will get cold.'

He didn't move._ He's getting better_, I thought to myself,dad normally burst out laughing at this point, with his booming, gravelly voice, and I would pretend to be moody for a little bit longer, before bursting out in laughter too, _looks like he is really trying this time_.

I stood really still, hand over my mouth; trying to be quiet. After a few moments, I jumped on him, expecting him to be shocked, and start laughing. But he didn't move.  
>I slipped off of him, and banged my arm against the hard, wooden porch.<p>

'Ouch,' I moaned. 'Dad what do you think you're doing.

Now I was angry.

'Stop pretending to be asleep, it's not funny.'

Moving over to him, I pushed him onto his back. Then I saw his empty, staring eyes, and I felt dread run down my back, like an ice cold bead of sweat, on a hot day.  
>I saw the bite marks on his neck, and I screamed. I ran, and the forest wasn't peaceful any longer, monsters hid behind every tree. Branches were hands, reaching out to pull, and scratch me.<br>I swore I saw a teenager standing in the dark, staring at me, hunger, and anger in his eyes. But I didn't stop, for hours I ran, with no real direction. I needed to get away, from the cabin, the corpse, the nightmare. Eventually I had arrived at a house. Tom had opened the door, and I flew into his arms, bloody, dirty, and crazed. He had tried to calm me for hours, and find out what happened.  
>The police came and went. I didn't change. Mute, dead to the world, lost in the recesses of my mind. It took years of therapy before I spoke. Before I could face what had happened.<p>

Sitting down on the couch, I rubbed my eyes. Ten years. Leaning back in the chair, I thought I could smell him. Dad had always had this smell, of chestnuts, and spice, letting myself fall asleep to the memory of good times, with him at my side.  
>I must have slept for hours, for when I awoke, it was dark. I stirred, and sat up.<br>Yawning, I felt content, now that I was here; it was like I could finally leave this behind. This final trip honoured his memory; I could finally leave my grief behind.  
>I was getting ready to stand, when a foot step echoed from outside. I froze, shadows started to lengthen, and I saw a figure, a black silhouette, the moon's light framing it in the door way. It stood there, not moving. I wanted to scream. Slowly, I leaned back in the sofa, hoping the figure wouldn't notice me.<br>My nightmare had become a reality, the monster of the night, had come. I felt it walk inside, I felt it move towards the sofa, and I felt it drawing closer.  
>Then it moved into view again. I stifled a whimper, as it moved to the fireplace, literally steps in front of me. I could see the glint off of a ring, and I could smell the musky scent of leather. Its fingers brushed the radio, and I prepared to run.<br>'Spero vobis potest invenire pacem.' The silhouette whispered, before disappearing into thin air.

I stared at the empty space in silence for a moment, before running out into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

**No Sanctuary in the Past**

_Flathead National Forest_**  
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People are like leaves, they spend an age in peace, and sanctuary, in the arms of their tree, before they fall. No matter how far it travels, no matter how hard it dances in the air, as it tries to break free of its fate, the ground always comes. People are like leaves, one significant event can change their world forever, and the only way out, lays in the depths.

I have fallen into the depths of my nightmare, and the only way out is down.

I ran, just like before, so long ago. Through the dark winding trees, as they clawed and pulled at me, I made my way. I didn't care for the peace of the forest; all I wanted was the warm glow of Tom's front steps.

Wild flowers framed my path; they looked beautiful in the pale moonlight, like a source of peace where there was only dark. For a time I followed the passageway through the trees, like a plane following the runway lights home.

From time to time, I would notice a faint, blurred shape in the depths of the forest, following, silent in the night.

After a while, I broke through the tree line, onto Seville Lane which led into Coram. For a while I stood there, on the threshold of that manmade convenience, and I wondered. _Is this what I really want?_

An old people carrier went past, honking its wheezing horn, the people inside were laughing, playing around, scattering broken beer bottles like bread crumbs, rap radiated out, muffled by the car's steel armour.

For a while I stood there, not sure of what I wanted. Should I return to the monotonous, unsatisfying life that is the world of man? Or should I delve deeper into that nightmare, where nothing made sense, but that didn't matter, because I felt alive?

If I dived deeper into my past, would I ever come up for air?

_Remember Hanna my girl, street lamps, and manmade roads will always be a beacon back home_.

A vague flashback of a time so long ago, when my father was alive, and everything was good.

I had lost my way back then, and my father had found me. But now he was gone, and only his words gave me the strength to go on.

Stepping onto the pebble dashed lane, I made my way. Out of the nightmare, and hopefully out of the reaches of the silhouette.

I hurried down the lane till lights appeared in the distance, and I felt myself relax.

In the distance, a lone street lamp lighted the Glacier Grill and pizza restaurant.

Darkness shows the world in different shades of grey, and colour seeps out of anything it touches. So as I looked out over that house of food, standing there, in full colour, I marvelled. The scene looked as if it was painted, with the artist throwing colour at a black and white painting.

Gravel crunching under my steel capped boots, I moved forward, into the light.

As I entered the glare of the lamp, colour enveloped me. The green shades of my combats, my brown shoes, and my arms which were covered in cuts and bruises, rich, rivets of blood flowed down my arms, and the bruises were purple. I marvelled at myself, like one does a painting, before I looked out over the landscape.

Nothing remained. The world had seemed to have disappeared into the darkness.

A sense of dread took hold, as if I had not left the nightmare behind. I felt like the nightmare had followed me here, as if it was waiting to strike.

A presence lingered in the shadows, just beyond the light, like it was waiting. But why did it hesitate?

'Who is there?' I shouted. 'Show yourself!'

I waited, and waited, the only sound was my breath, ragged, shallow.

After a few minutes, I started to doubt myself.

_You look like an idiot_, I told myself._ There's nothing out th-'_

_**Crunch**_

A footstep fell, at the edge of the darkness, on the fringes of the light; I saw the faint flicker of a shadow.

I screamed.

Falling backwards, my left elbow cushioned the fall; the shock of the fall knocked away my breath.

Scrambling backwards, I whimpered, as I saw a shoe enter the light, slowly, as if the owner was testing the light, taking its time.

Suddenly, a burst of voices came from Glacier Grill, as the customers came barrelling out of the door, over to her, asking if she was okay.

As they enveloped me with their concern, I glanced back at the darkness, the shoe was gone.

After spending what seemed like forever with the concerned customers and police whom turned up later, I eventually got a ride home.

Tom was furious.

'What did you think you were doing?' He shouted, but when I didn't respond, he gave up, and hugged me.

'Don't ever do that to me again,' he commanded.

After Tom went to bed, I sat there on the couch, in the silence hands wrapped around my legs, in the dark.

As I stayed there, in my pyjamas, I remembered the feeling.

Fear, primal, terrifying, and complete, had taken hold. But for some reason that I couldn't even begin to imagine, I had felt alive. Like being in the presence of my father's murderer, the monster of my dreams, was the only thing that made sense any more.

Here in the safeness of my house, I felt empty, alone, unfinished, like a story without an ending.

The pretty pink plasters on my arms didn't make sense anymore.

I only craved the scent of musky leather, and its voice. The monster had sounded so beautiful, so sadistic, as it uttered in that foreign tongue.

I felt my fear slowly changing, infecting me, rotted away the girl I had been. I was addicted, I craved its presence, I felt a seed of darkness germinate within, growing, feeding. It was too much, I needed it, I wanted it.

That night, I welcomed my nightmares. The next day, I decided to find them.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three – Loving the Nightmare

As a child, the darkness is a terrifying place. It's a place where all the monsters come to life, and where you feel completely alone. But as you grow older, you learn that there is nothing in the darkness, nothing that goes bump in the night. But what if the roles were reversed? What if you felt alone in the light? What if the only thing you wanted, was a dark Lullaby?

Tom had driven me too school. He wanted to make sure that this time I couldn't ditch the monotony which was the classroom.

As he rolled up to the entrance of my high school, he turned to look at me.

'I'm picking you up right after school. Are we clear?'

He was angry; I could see it in his hands, which were clenched around the steering wheel of his, Chevrolet camaro ss.

I nodded. He always got angry when he was worried for me. But that was mainly because of me. I always seemed to be the one who caused the trouble for him. That pained me, because I loved him, and didn't want to cause him trouble. After my dad died, he tried to do the best he could. He always tried to make up for the father I had lost.

Getting out, I saw me reflection in the light blue chrome of his car. I looked terrible. Standing there in my un-ironed shirt, grey skirt, and uncombed hair, I looked like a mess.

I did what I could with my hair, and tried to flatten out the cresses on my shirt.

Tom leaned over and looked out of the car window.

'Sorry about that, after what happened yesterday, ironing was the least of my concerns.'

I smiled back at him.

'Don't worry about it.' I said, as I started to turn away.

'You aren't grounded,' he called out before I went. 'But because you won't tell me why you were there, I'm going to have to keep you under surveillance.'

I could see it in his eyes. He was disturbed by what he had seen. I could see my silence was hurting him. Forcing him to imagine what could have happened. It forced him to ask himself why a girl would be screaming in the night, bruised and cut.

I couldn't let him suffer anymore.

Leaning in, I looked him in the eyes.

'I went to the cabin.' I murmured.

I saw a fresh wave of emotions play across his face, it lasted a second, before settling into sadness.

'Why,' he asked voice barely audible.

I thought about that for a moment.

'Because I am like a broken bone, which has mended out of place; before I can truly heal I must be re-broken, so that I may leave my grief behind.'

As a tear appeared in his eye, he frowned.

'You are wise beyond your years Hanna. I love you like a daughter, and I know that this hurts you. But if you must do this, if you must go back there again.' Reaching into the car's glove compartment, Tom withdrew his USP handgun.

'If you must return, take this with you, to give me some peace of mind.'

Deftly, I slipped the gun into my bag.

'Thank you for understanding,' I smiled at him.

'If you want me to come, I will,' he asked.

'No, I feel too safe with you.' I laughed back. 'I want to be broken, not safe.'

For a moment, I saw an abyss of grief, and pain in his eyes, before he smiled warily back.

'If you aren't back before midnight, I will go looking for you.' He glared at me, and I saw that he meant it. I hoped I would be able to find the monster before then.

'Don't worry,' I replied. 'What are you going to cook tonight?'

'Authentic Italian spaghetti bolognaise,' he replied smiled.

'It aint authentic if it aint made in Italy stupid,' I grinned at him.

Grinning back, Tom pointed at me.

'Just you wait. You'll be surprised.' He laughed as he sat back in the car.

'Now go do... What you have to do.' He smiled sadness in his eyes.

'Save some of that spag bol for me okay?' I replied.

Nodding back at me, he waved.

'Alright, now sod off.' He said affectionately.

It hated having to lie to him. But this was the only way he would let me go.

As he drove off I started walking, not towards school, but towards the dark.

I hadn't walked far before I came across my friend, Kristine, as I walked across the cobblestone pavement. She had her books cradled in one arm, and was texting with the other, a chain of daisies lay on her head like a tiara.

I usually found Kristine pleasant to be with, as she would talk for hours about the books she would read. I liked this, because she was one of the few girls that weren't completely obsessed with boys. It's not that I didn't like boys, it's just that when you feel ill with grief all of the time, without stop, for ten years, it's hard to interact with others. Let alone find someone attractive.

She hadn't seen me, and was on the other side of the road. Unluckily, there wasn't any cover to duck behind. No towering tree, no bush. On one side of the road there were houses, and in the other there were even more.

Looking at the ground I hoped she wouldn't notice me. As I held onto the straps of my bag, I cursed under my breath. I hated skirts; they had no pockets, and allowed any nettles to sting my legs. Oh how I longed for the forest, so that I could change into my combats.

'Hanna!' I heard Kristine shout from over the road.

_Damn_.

'Hanna. Over here!' She repeated.

Looking over the road, I saw her wave, a huge grin on her face.

_Go away_.

'Hey, Kristine,' I shouted back, trying to imitate her enthusiasm.

As she crossed the road I considered running, I knew that I was faster than her, but she was persistent, and was great at cross-country.

'Where are off too?' She asked, beaming with happiness.

'Here and there,' I replied.

Pouting her lips, she struck an angry pose.

'You're ditching school aren't you,' she asked in mock outrage.

'Yes,' I replied bluntly.

Perturbed by my curt reply, she pointed one finger at me, and placed her other hand on her hip, trying to look commanding.

'Look now,' she said, completely serious. 'If you are going to skip school, you know what I have to do.'

_Oh dear lord no_.

'I have to go with you!' She burst out, jumping on me, wrapping me in a hug.

After she was finished, I took a step back.

'You won't want to come,' I warned her, 'I'm going to the forest.'

Confusion, and then interest, flittered in her eyes.

'Why do you want to go there?' She asked.

I took a deep breath, and pretended to look depressed.

'I'm going to the cabin.'

It's funny how things turn out. The day before, I wouldn't have had to pretend, but now I felt excited to be going back.

Concern was evident on Kristine's face.

'Well then I'm defiantly coming,' she replied. 'You'll need someone to keep you company.'

I knew the forest like the back of my hand, and seeing as it never changed, I followed the same pathway I had followed the night before. Kristine was a couple of steps behind me, wearing some old sweat pants she had gotten from her home before coming here.

The flowers which had framed the pathway were brilliant in the light, clumps of emerald, and sapphire coloured wild flora covered the ground, like a patchwork carpet. The sun shined through the canopy, giving a green tint to the world. I had changed into the clothes I had worn yesterday. The left strap of my tank top had snapped, and the cloth way ripped to pieces. It hardly covered me, but I didn't care. Because if I wore the things I had yesterday, maybe I'll see the monster I had seen last night.

Kristine hated the walk, but she stayed silent. She knew that there was no turning back for me, and she didn't want to walk back alone.

Yet again, the trees gave way to the clearing, as if they dared not touch the place. As Kristine and I walked towards the cabin through the wild vegetation my heart fluttered.

'Wow Hanna,' Kristine gasped, 'this place is beautiful.'

Nodding, I stepped onto the porch, and looked inside.

_No_.

I took a step inside, and looked around now, frantic.

_This isn't possible._

I fell to my knees.

_It can't be!_

Head in my hands, I cried.

Following me inside, Kristine whistled.

'No one has been here for a long time,' she stated.

She was right. The walls were covered with Ivy, and the floor had been ravaged with wild flowers. The Wooden table was overturned, and the wine cabinet was smashed.

But what I hated the most. What I couldn't take, was the radio, smashed open on the grate of the old and blackened fireplace.

_I did see him. I'm not crazy..._

As I tried to tear my hair out, Kristine tried to calm me.

_Or am I?_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four – The Unknown Guide

To live in uncertainty, is to live in a world where anything is real. To live in a world where the unimaginable becomes common, and everything you think must be true, is but a nightmare.

As I looked around that cabin, I could no longer trust my own eyes. I was left wondering whether anything I had seen was real, I didn't know whether I had gone insane.

Kristine had stayed with me, and had comforted me, believing that I was simply grieving for my loss. She was right. But I didn't just grieve for my father. I grieved for my distraction; it wounded me that the nightmare wasn't real.

I felt the darkness leaving me, and I hated it. It no longer masked my pain. The feeling of loss was there again.

We went back to the town before sunset. Kristine thought the trip had been a hard slog, but she was glad that she had helped me. So I let her think that she had.

A day went by, and then the weekend came.

My mind was in auto pilot, I was so absent that I actually agreed to go on a drive with Kristine. She had just learned, and she wanted an excuse to use her new car.

We drove and drove, and we eventually came to a backwater town, I didn't see any sign on the way, so I didn't know where we were in. We walked around, and looked into the dirty windows of a few second-hand book stores.

After a while the sun came down, covering the moody little buildings, with the pale glow of twilight.

**It's true; we're all a little insane**

Like a bomb going off in my brain, I was suddenly alert, as I heard music in the distance.

**I dream in darkness **

I heard the lyrics of a song, playing.

It was the song that had been playing those long years ago, and its lyrics mocked me. It showed a fragile picture of my pathetic life.

**Are you still too weak?**

Yes I was weak. My father had been taken away from me, and the only thing that made me feel alive was my own delusions.

**To survive your mistakes**

I couldn't take it anymore; I had to switch it off.

So I ran, Kristine was searching in her car, and didn't see me go.

I followed the noise, around the cobbled streets, around a few bends, and down an alley, leading to a garage.

The cheap, rusted door was swung upwards, like the entrance to some form of rabbit trap, and the inside was shrouded in darkness, like the maw of some nightmarish beast. The music was playing inside, luring me into the dark.

**You poor sweet innocent thing**

I took a few tentative steps into the mouth of the beast, under the rusted overhang, and stopped.

The radio was the same model, and was on the same frequency. As I looked at it, perched on a rickety old shelf, my heart skipped a beat.

A rough hand grabbed my shoulder.

I shuddered, but did not scream. I wanted so much for this to be real.

'Young lady,' a deep voice rumbled, 'Are you going to buy that radio? Or are you going to try and steal it?'

Disappointment overwhelmed me.

'No, I just recognised the song.' I said turning to look at the man.

He was old, in his seventies; he walked with a bent back, and wore a baseball cap backwards on his head. But in the darkness, that was all I could tell.

He shuffled over to a chair, and took out a cigar.

'Well it's a mighty fine radio, Miss.' He mumbled back. 'It fills the silence when I'm working.'

He coughed a long wheezing cough, and pulled out his lighter.

'But I don't think much of what these youngsters are listening to these days.'

I smiled as the man pulled long drafts on his cigar, which was huge, and made him look small and withered.

'My radio broke.' I told him, as the song finished.

He looked up at me, concern on his face.

'Why that is a terrible shame darling',' he replied, 'tell you what though. You bring it here, and I'll fix it for you, free of charge.'

I didn't care about the mangled radio in Kristine's car, but I did want to talk to this man some more.

'You will?' I asked.

'I'd be happy for the company.' He replied, 'I don't get many visitors these days.'

'I'll be right back,' I said, as I barrelled out of the garage

After running back to the car, I took out the radio, from the glove box.

'Where have you been?' Kristine asked, as she texted on her phone, 'I got to pick up a dress from, Dill's Old Dressers.'

I didn't even think about going with her. For some reason, the little old man in the garage took my full attention.

'Could you pick me up here in an hour?' I asked, 'I've found someone who can fix this.'

She looked at my hands, and frowned.

'You do realise you can't fix what has happened right?' She asked. 'Getting that repaired won't help.'

Nodding, I moved the little shattered radio around in my fingers.

'I know,' I replied. 'I just always liked this. It used to give a good clear sound'

'Alright,' she sighed, as she got into her car. 'One hour.'

As Kristine drove off, I raced back to the garage.

The old man had moved now, and had gotten out some tools, and started laying them out over a workbench.

'I'm back,' I called out.

Turning around to look at me, the man glared.

'What do you want?' He asked. 'I'm busy here.'

Shocked at his aggressiveness, I took a step back.

'You... said you'd fix this for me.' I stuttered, holding out the little radio.

'Oh yes, I did.' He scratched at the stubble on his chin, and a smile spread across his weary bluish lips.

If he had not been moving, and talking, I would have thought that the man was dead, he was so pale.

'Sorry, I'm always forgetting what I'm doing.' He laughed, and then confusion spread across his face again. 'I always forget what I am here to do.'

He smiled again, and took the radio from me.

I sat in the chair he had been smoking in, and watched him work.

His wrinkled fingers, used various tools, and fluttered around, with delicacy, repairing the broken radio, as he sat on a worn out stool.

'How did this thing break?' He asked after a few minutes of silence.

I thought about that for a moment, resting my chin on my arm, which I had perched on the chairs back. I decided to tell him the truth, well, part of it anyway.

'It was damaged... In a fight,' I said, voice barely a whisper. 'A fight my father lost'

Everything was silent, but the sound of his work.

'What did he lose?' The man asked, never looking up from his work. 'Was there a wager or something?'

I didn't answer for a second, the grief was too much.

'He lost his life.' I replied.

The noise of the man's work stopped for a second, and he glanced at me.

'That is unfortunate.' He replied. After a minute, he looked at me again.

I hadn't noticed until now, but he had a large slash on his palm, which had been shoddily sewn.

'My name is Jerry.' He said.

'Hanna,' I replied.

He turned back to his work, and continued.

'Could you have done anything?' he asked.

I knew what he meant; I didn't need him to clarify.

'Could I have saved him?' I asked. 'No. I don't believe I could have. I was seven, and didn't even know it was happening. I was inside, and he was on the porch.'

'What was playing?' He asked.

Now I didn't have a clue what he was on about.

'What do you mean?' I asked.

'What was playing on the radio?' he asked, never looking up from his work.

I froze. _How did he know?_

'You had this with you,' he continued, 'yet you didn't come to get it fixed. You looked at my radio like it had some sort of meaning to you, and yours was broken in the fight. So I assumed it was playing.'

I felt my heart slow. _That was a reasonable guess_.

'Sweet Sacrifice,' I replied.

'The same song as was on a few minutes ago?' He replied. 'Hmm. Maybe this was fate then.'

'Why is it fate?' I asked, a bit angry at him.

'Oh, I don't know.' Jerry sighed. 'I don't even know why I am here.'

Even more confused, I let the matter drop.

'So,' he asked. 'Could you have saved him?'

Annoyed that he was bringing this up again, I jumped up from my seat.

'There was nothing I could do!' I shouted.

He didn't even flinch.

'Maybe you don't truly believe that,' he retorted. 'Maybe you want me to repair this radio, so that you can re-live the past, so that you can get closure. Maybe you just want to say to him that you are sorry.'

I stood there for the longest time, shaking, in the pale moonlight.

He was right, and I knew it. I could have been there with him, so that at the end, he would have known that I loved him, and he wasn't alone.

After a while, I noticed a picture frame, lying face down on the workbench, where Jerry was sitting.

'I've finished,' he said, whipping his hands down with an oily rag.

Walking over to the frame, I turned it up, so that I could see.

In it, I saw Jerry as a young man in his thirties, young boys hanging off his arms, smiles on their faces, Mount Rushmore in the distance.

'My kids,' I heard him say. 'I never did forgive them for choosing their mother,'

I looked at him; he had tears in his eyes.

'But it's good to see their faces one more time.' He said confusion yet again on his face.

He was standing up when a rusty nail caught his hand, right where the old cut had been.

Crying out in pain, he fell sideways, smashing his head against a vice which was fastened to the workbench, before falling to the floor.

'Oh my god,' I shouted, as I checked to see if he was alright.

He still looked confused, hand on his head.

'Why am I here?' He asked. After a few seconds, his is eyes lit up. 'I remember!'

He suddenly hugged me.

'Jerry, are you hurt?' I stammered, shocked.

But he didn't listen.

'Thank you so much,' he said, his withered arms weakly holding on. 'Without seeing that picture I couldn't rest.'

'What do you mean,' I asked again, confused, stressed, and tired.

'Without you, I wouldn't have seen that picture,' Jerry smiled, 'and I wouldn't have seen them one last time, I wouldn't have been able to forgive them.'

He had obviously gone into shock, he was spurting gibberish.

'Let me check your head,' I said, escaping his hug.

As I looked, I was amazed. There was no damage at all.

'Stop your fretting woman,' he groaned, 'I do that all the time. Besides, I remember it all so clearly now. You have released me from my pain!'

We stood up, and he retrieved my radio from the workbench.

I didn't know what he was on about, so I just accepted the radio.

'Don't worry about it,' I said, 'and thanks for the radio.'

He nodded enthusiastically.

'Yes, yes,' he smiled. 'But now you must go to your friend. Sadly our hour is up.'

I smiled.

'It was nice to meet you Jerry,' I said, cradling my repaired radio.

'You too, Miss Hanna.' He smiled back.

As I left, I heard him call out to me.

'Use the radio,' he shouted. 'Use it to say you are sorry. Use it to say you loved him,'

I turned back to say I would, but he was gone, and the rusty door had been drawn shut.

I smiled to myself, and continued on.

I met with Kristine, and we were on the drive back when she noticed the radio.

'Who did you get to repair it?' She asked.

'A man named Jerry.' I replied.

She didn't speak for the longest while.

'Hanna,' she said softly. 'Jerry's repairs have been shut since the owner died. Apparently the old man fell and hit his head.'

_WHAT!_ I screamed in my head, as I glared at her.

I got my emotions under control before Kristine could notice that the blood had drained from my face.

_Was it a delusion?_ I asked myself. Clutching the radio, I knew that wasn't the truth. It was repaired.

I thought about that for a minute.

He had known everything about me. He was pale, and colder than any living man.

_'I always forget what I am here to do.' He had said._

As if he had a different reason for being there.

And he had suffered a mortal wound, but had no injury to show for it.

_'Without seeing that picture I couldn't rest.' He had said._

It was like he had to see that picture, before he could move on.

_You have released me from my pain!' He had said._

Smiling I understood, and as we drove through the night, I felt the darkness growing in me again.

'The Richard's Ranch people fixed it,' I told Kristine. 'I had forgotten.'

Closing my eyes, I heard Kristine start to talk again, happy that dead people weren't fixing my things.

But of course, she was wrong.

_'He was a ghost,' I thought, 'and I helped him pass on.'_

I sighed, content that I had helped the grieving soul

'_I will take his advice, and I will return to the cabin_.' I told myself.

And as we drove, I could have sworn I heard the sound of Jerry's laugh in the distance, as we drove through the night, towards home, and the nightmare.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry that I am late with this one, I have been ill, and so have been unable to write. I hope you enjoyed it anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

**A Change of Perspective **

_Flathead National Forest_

When the unimaginable occurs, all reason is thrown out the window. Like a stick of gum that has lost its flavour, reality doesn't cut it for you anymore. So you wrap it up, and throw it out the window, leaving it behind, on the side of the road, as you drive, hopefully, towards a better life.

The radio was my proof. It was my shore line, reminding me that life was not like it seemed. I would go to school, and spend the entire day thinking about the ghost. Why did it show itself to me?

Was it fate? Was fate, telling me what to do? Or was it something else?

As the weekend closed in, I thought less and less about the ghost of Jerry, and started thinking about the nightmare. If Jerry was real, and by now I was convinced he was, then surely the monster from the night was too.

I packed away my books, and closed my eyes. It was Friday, 4:15, and the last lesson of the day had ended. As the school bell went, I felt excitement grow inside me.

Today was the day.

I had brought my gym bag this morning, even though P.E. was only on Wednesdays. I had stuffed it full of the things I would need.

I had brought: one lantern, and lighter, two sets of white tank tops, and two sets of khakis. I also had, one flip knife, two canteens of water, a hexi burner, and a pack of salted meat. I had checked the weather forecast all day on my radio, and it would be warm and sunny all weekend.

Telling Tom where I was going was hard.

I convinced him I was going on a sleep over at Kristine's house. So I got her to cover for me.

'Where are you going?' She had asked.

'Camping,' I had replied. 'I just want to get away from the world for a bit.'

Kristine had laughed, and had agreed to my plan, before going into a rant about her day. I didn't like lying to her, but it had to be done.

After Tom had called Kristine, and had my story backed up. He had let me go.

I changed into my clothes in the school changing rooms, and set off. As I left school I received smirks from the 'popular girls' as they loitered around the school gate, and I headed towards the forest.

It didn't take long to reach, and before I knew it, the sounds of civilisation were gone, replaced by the chirping of birds, and the sound of leaves in the wind.

After a while of pushing through the forest, twigs snapping under my boots, I felt a wave of calm settle over me. I felt like I belonged in this world. I belonged where civilisation didn't exist, and survival was the only goal.

That primal world seemed to call to me so strongly, that as I reached the path of wild flowers, I never wanted to leave.

I reached the cabin about an hour before nightfall. So I went inside, and looked around. The place had changed yet again, the moss, and vines were gone, and it was as it had been. The plates were back to how they were, the table was where it had been, and when I replaced the radio over the fireplace, the room was returned to how it had been, on that night so many years ago.

I looked around, a smile on my face. Now that everything was back in place; I knew that I had been right to return. The darkness had been playing with my mind, and had tried to make me doubt my sanity. But it had not expected my recovery, and had not thought I would return.

So I waited.

As I sat there on the sofa, waiting for it to return, I vowed that this time I would not run. I would face it.

The light fell, but the monster didn't come for me. I couldn't feel the tension of its presence, so I lit a fire with my lighter and some hexi blocks in the fireplace. Adding some logs, I watched the orange embers slowly grow into flames.

I decided to leave my bag by the fire, so it would keep dry, and I got an old blanket from the closet.

After checking it for lice, and other insects, I wrapped it around my shoulders, and waited on the coach. It didn't take long for night to fall, and as the final rays from the sun left, I was left with only the fire to illuminate the world around me.

As an orange glow flittered across the wall, I got more and more tired, until I eventually fell asleep.

I awoke to a chill going down my spine. I hadn't been asleep for long, because the moon was still rising in the east. The fire had turned to embers now, and the cooing of an owl in the echoed in the distance.

I rubbed my eyes, and checked my watch, it was twelve o'clock.

Keeping the blanket close around me, I went to pick up a log. It was soaked through. I looked around the cabin, and saw that condensation was pouring off the walls. It ran off of the cabinates, the fireplace, and even the sofa. Suddenly the cold hit me, it frosted my breath, made me shiver, and froze the sweat on my back.

It was here.

The hair on my neck stood up, and I got goose bumps. My heart was beating so load, that I could hear it.

Then a whisper radiated from the darkness.

_Cur habere vobis venit retro... _

I was frozen in place, as I stood, staring at the doorway.

My heart stopped, I felt dread encompass me, as the silhouette appeared.

_Vobis oportet relinquere..._

As I looked upon the beast, I felt alive, my mouth gaping open.

It took a step forward, and its shoes came into view as it melted from the shadows, until a man stood before me. He was wearing a dark grey suit, a maroon tie, and he had long wavy brown hair, tied back in an elegant style.

As he walked towards me, slowly, I could see more.

He looked like he was in his early twenties, and as he got even closer, I saw his eyes. They were a dark red, and seemed to move slowly, like a thick liquid about his irises.

I felt like I was about to faint, as the man looked deep into my eyes, he took another step. I felt my legs give way. As I started to fall, I was in his arms. His mouth was open, and his lips were twitching, as if he was trying not to bite me.

_Cur facere vobis temptatis me ita..._

Nothing mattered as I stared at him. Looking into the eyes of my nightmare, I thought one thing, 'beautiful'. As he leaned in, I heard him whisper, 'you're mine.'

* * *

><p>AN: I'm sorry this chapter took so long to come out. I have been super busy, and haven't had time to comit the story. :( Hopefully though, I should have some more time now, and will be able to release chapters faster. :)


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

**Misconceptions**

_Fletcher Cabin, Flathead National Forest_

I couldn't stand it anymore; he was so close, so strong... I fainted.

How wrong I had been. It was not a nightmare, it was a blessing.

I woke on the sofa, a blanket covering me, tucked in like my dad used to. Yawning, I opened my eyes. The fire was still going, so he must have thrown some logs on the fire.

Sitting up, I rubbed my eyes, and noticed that I was wearing pyjamas.

Shocked, I noticed that that they were ones from home. Had he gotten them for me? He hadn't taken advantage of me, even though he would have seen more than I'd have liked when he changed me.

I looked around, and noticed a letter on the table.

Walking over, I ran my finger under the sealing wax, which had the initials A.W.

_**I will be return tonight, and will explain everything.**_

_**Yours**_

_**Andrew Wheeler.**_

_**P.S. Please wear the dress. Thank you.**_

I closed my eyes, and held the letter to my chest. I was feeling dizzy, and grabbed a chair. Sitting down, I read the letter again. What dress?

I looked around, and noticed something hanging by the fireplace.

Walking over, my eyes grew wide, and I gaped.

_Oh my._

It took a while to put on, but when I had, I looked in the mirror.

It was a strapless and backless, black dress that fell to my knees.

It came with a dark blue ribbon which I wore in my hair, I chewed my lip. As I looked at myself, I grew more and more self conscious.

I never normally cared about my appearance, but I couldn't help myself. He wasn't just anybody. I wasn't even sure if he was human. But I did know that Andrew Wheeler was the silhouette, and I would do anything to see him again.

I spent the rest of the day waiting. I called Tom and told him that I was going out for the day, and I wouldn't be back till late.

I was going to search my backpack for salted beef, when I noticed a bottle of wine on the kitchen counter, Chateau Lafitte 1777.

It looked like the bottle was very rare; it was even covered in cobwebs.

Intrigued, I opened a cabinet door, and gasped.

There were all kinds of rare and expensive foods there. I picked up a container, and looked the label, 'White Alba truffles.'

The rest of the writing was in Italian, and I realised that Mr Wheeler had them flown in.

_How do you even cook these?_ I thought, and placed them on the worktop.

I opened another cabinet, and among more expensive foods, I saw a box of white chocolate biscuits, and took the out.

They were the same brand that I had eaten ten years ago.

_They have stopped making these..._ I thought, and then looked at the note on the back.

**Dear Mr Wheeler,**

**We thank you for your custom, and are glad you liked our brand. Your donation to our company was very generous, and so we have baked these biscuits for you especially.**

**Sincerely**

**The Harking Baking Company**

_He ordered these in?_ I thought to myself. _He must be rich_._ But why is he doing this? What does he want with me?_

I knew by now that Andrew Wheeler was connected to my father's death, but I didn't know how. He must have been around my age when my father died, and I was sure that no one that young could overpower my father.

_I have to find out more,_ I thought, _I'll pretend to be friendly, and worm it out of him_.

Even as the plan formed in my mind, I knew it wasn't going to work out. Whoever this Andrew Wheeler was, and no matter what he wanted, I knew that He wasn't going to be easy to manipulate.

After all, I still had to get over the effect he had on me. When he touched me that night, it was too much, I had fainted.

_I have to get a hold of myself_, I thought, _He's just a man_.

I switched on the radio, started the gas cooker, and fried some 'Wagyu beef', I had found in a cabinet, and sprinkled it with some saffron I found in the spice rack. I looked at the price tags, and realised that this meal alone had cost more than Tom's TV back home.

For some reason I felt guilty for eating it, like I had borrowed someone's car, and hadn't given it back. But even my guilt couldn't stop me from finishing the plate. It tasted too good. I'd never been a good cook, but the ingredients made up for that.

After spending my day like this, night began to fall.

I sent Tom a message, and told him not to stay up, because I would be getting back a bit later than planned, and that I was with friends. He sent me one back saying that it was okay, and told me to be careful.

Sighing, I closed my eyes, and waited...

I woke up later, to a pleasant smell, and the sound of boiling water.

Sitting up, I looked around. A fire was glowing in the fireplace, and a couple of candles lighted the rest of the cabin.

I closed my eyes, sat up, electricity flowing through my body.

Moving my head to face the kitchen, I opened my eyes, and saw him standing there.

_Andrew Wheeler..._

'Good night,' I heard him say, a hint of humour in his voice.

'Good night,' I replied.

Rubbing my eyes, I stood up, and walked towards him.

'What are you cooking?'

His hands were flowing across the desktop, slicing peppers, and dicing onions.

'I thought you might like some food.' He smiled, as he turned to look at me.

He looked eighteen at the most, and had chiselled features that'd make most girls faint, but that didn't concern me anymore. I looked deep into his eyes, and was filled with a sense of awe.

I saw a swirling void of time, and an entity behind it, a person that had endured the wrath of time. I saw such an ancient wasteland in his eyes, that an ache grew in my chest, of sorrow.

Reaching up, I put my hand on his cheek.

'How have you survived?' I asked. 'How have you coped?'

I didn't understand why, but I knew that Andrew Wheeler was not eighteen, because when I looked into that void, I saw an old man.

As he closed his eyes, he let out a deep breath, and put his hand over mine, holding it to his cheek.

'With much effort,' he replied, voice deep.

I put my head to his, and we stood there, in silence.

I felt like I knew him, like he had been there my whole life, guarding me, watching over me, a guardian angel.

And then I remembered, ten years ago, I had seen something.

"As I ran, the forest wasn't peaceful any longer, a monster hid behind every tree. Branches were hands, reaching out to pull, and scratch me.

I swore I saw a teenager standing in the dark, staring at me, hunger, and anger in his eyes. But I didn't stop, for hours I ran, with no real direction."

As I stared at the face of Andrew Wheeler, his eyes closed, and his face peaceful in my hand, I stared at that boy, from so long ago.

'You haven't aged at all,' I whispered.

A pang of pain shot through his face, and he looked deep into my eyes.

'For ten years I have watched over you. At first I thought of you as bait, then as an emotional wreck. Until everything started to change, and I felt something stir in my black heart, I felt...' He closed his eyes again, and he took a deep breath.

'I felt love.'

My heart fluttered.

_Love,_ I thought.

After a few moments, his face turned to despair.

'But you shouldn't know this,' his face turned to anger; 'I have been selfish. I have put you in danger!'

We stood there for a long time, hand in hand.

'What happened that night?'

He looked at me again.

'Are you sure you want to know?'

Pain showed on his face, and he didn't try to hide it.

'Yes,' I answered.

He let go of my hand, and walked over to the fire.

'Alright,' he said, absently.

Running his hand over the radio, he looked beautiful, perfect.

'Where shall I begin?'

He smiled, two pointed teeth out further than the rest, and then he told me everything.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry that the chapters have been released so unregularly. I have been trying a lot to improve my skills as a writer, and have spent a lot of time studying techniques. Trying to add more of a structure, rather than just the raging tides of my mind. Hopefully, I can soon impliment my findings, and start updating at a faster rate. Though I believe I still have far to go on this journey, I hope you bare with me, and I hope you enjoy the chapters I release.

:3


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

**Past Unveiled**

_Flathead National Forest_

Andrew Wheeler

_Love is like water, you spend your whole life with it, and take it for granted. _

_But sometimes you get thrown in at the deep end,_

_and no matter how much you struggle against it,_

_You can't ignore it any longer. _

_After that, there is no going back. _

_You don't want to come up for air. _

* * *

><p>As soft, grey clouds floated across the night sky, I walked, under the dark green canopy of ancient trees.<p>

I had been hunting for months now, but I was finally closing in on my quarry.

He was called, Grigore. A wild vampire, devoid of civilised thought, his only care was for blood, and violence.

Like most 'wild' vampires, he lived like an animal, wearing only furs, and leathers, with tattoos covering his entire body. He would go from town to town, and city to city, feeding on humans, like a monster.

I had hunted him over the ocean from Romania, around the golden coast of California, and now to Montana's, lush, Flathead National Forest, just south of the Canadian border.

Reaching a lake, I took a deep, lingering breath, and noticed that Grigore's scent had gone; I skirted the shore, and eventually found the scent again. It wasn't as strong as before, but at least it was there.

_Clever thing, _I thought, _but you're only saving minutes now_.

Straightening my tie, I leap up onto one of the surrounding trees, reaching the top, I looked around, gauging my surroundings. I could sense the smell waft towards a clearing far in the distance, and knew that was where he was heading.

After gliding to the ground, I wove through the trees after him; his scent growing stronger.

_He is close now_.

I continued on for a while, the moon fell softly through the canopy, and rolled off my skin.

Running, I flowed over a fallen tree, and past a feeding wild cat.

I rejoiced at my speed. I was so fast that animals appeared frozen in place. And as I was closing in on Grigore, I tasted blood on the air, and licked my lips. Drawing two long, graceful daggers from my jacket, I quickened my pace. Killing him while he fed would be child's play.

Approaching the clearing, I stopped, with blades in hand; and crept into the glade keeping a wary eye out for traps.

I spotted my prey feeding on a middle aged man, as the he lay on the porch of a sturdy, little wooden cabin.

I grimaced, and continued onward. Grigore was so preoccupied that he hadn't noticed my appearance.

But the man had, and he was staring into my eyes, his mouth wide open, like he was screaming at me.

I only just heard him whisper from across the distance.

'Please,' he gasped, 'save my daughter.'

_Daughter?_

'Dad, dinner is ready!' I heard a little girl shout from inside.

A wave of dread flowed through my body.

_A child! How can he think of killing something so young?_

I felt sick at the idea.

Grigore had heard the man whisper to me, and turned.

As his eyes found me, he looked at the daggers in my hands, and after a moment, raced off into the forest. I was about to chase after him, when the girl walked onto the porch.

'If you keep pretending to be asleep,' she barked out, 'then the food will get cold.'

I stood there in the clearing, frozen in place.

The dying man mouthed a 'thank you,' before his eyes rolled back into his head and eyes closed.

A feeling of sorrow infected my dead heart, like I had never felt before.

_If I had been earlier, I could have saved him._

The girl jumped onto her father playfully, expecting him to catch her, and slipped off, banging her arm.

'Ouch,' she moaned. 'Dad what do you think you're doing?'

If it was possible, I would have cried, and as I watched the girls face turn from annoyance into horror, I could feel my sorrow turning to rage.

Racing from the clearing, I moved fast enough that the girl hadn't notice me run past.

I was on his trail again, and I had vengeance in my heart. What Grigore had done reminded me of everything I hated, and renewed my loathing of what I had become, and of what the thirst made me do.

Grigore would die. I would make sure of that.

As I started to close in again, I saw him crashing through the forest. He glanced back at me; a snarl on his face, the blood of the girl's father had left streaks on his cheeks, like red war paint.

He jumped, and went shoulder first into a tree, before pouncing back off the trunk towards me.

I didn't slow down. Daggers tight in my grip, I watched Grigore draw a vicious broadsword.

Growls escaped both our throats, and we clashed.

The sound was apocalyptic, as we struck out at each other.

I tried to stay close in, where my daggers would be most effective, but Grigore kneed me in the stomach, sending me backwards, giving his blade space to move.

I parried a few blows, and then ducked under his sword, delivering a two quick cuts, to his sword arm, and neck.

Giving a hiss of pain, he leaped out of my reach.

I was about to press my advantage, when a cry echoed out from the distance.

Glancing toward the sound, I noticed Grigore backing off, a sick grin spread across his face.

_Dear god, no!_

I had been tricked.

A howl answered the cry, and my dead heart skipped a beat.

In horror, I spun around, and flew towards the sounds.

Grigore didn't follow me, using the distraction to escape. But as he disappeared from view, the last thing I heard was his laughter, echoing through the night.

I ran as fast as I could, and when I started to close in, I could tell something was wrong.

She was running through the forest, horror controlling her every move. Knocking into trees, the branches raked across her face and shoulders, and she screamed out again.

_She isn't in being attacked._

I was so outraged at my mistake that I started to see red, until the girl glanced towards me, and noticed my presence; I spun around into the foliage. I was too thirsty, and weak to finish off Grigore now. He had too much of a head start.

Roaring, I punched a tree, splintering the wood into a pulpy mess.

_Months of tracking, foiled by the scream of a little girl_, I thought.

My anger was so intense, that for the first time, something awoke inside me, and the feral, evil, vampire side to me struggled to get free, threatening to replace all reason, with blood lust.

As I tried to relax, the cracked tree started to fall, and my anger was gone, replaced by horror.

Using all of my strength, I pushed the tree, and managed to correct its course, so it didn't fall in her direction.

_What the hell am I thinking_, I thought to myself_, it could have crushed her!_

A volt of realisation ran through my body, as I noticed that I cared for this fragile child, and that if this girl died, I wouldn't be able to bear it.

_Why does this girl have such a hold on me all of a sudden? _

I shivered.

_What is happening to me?_

I was scared, because I had stopped caring about anything else, not Grigore, nor even the thirst that was boiled away in my throat. All I wanted was to protect her.

I recoiled at my emotions.

_How is this possible?_

_I don't care about humans; they're just a food source._

So why did I feel something for this one?

It was ridiculous. How could I, a vampire, that fed on humans for breakfast, care about this youngling?

I followed the girl, protecting her, and subtly guiding her, as she raced through the forest, cutting her arms as she went. The smell of her blood didn't faze me, I would never hurt her.

The new emotions I was feeling, were so foreign to me, and felt so strong, that I didn't care why I felt them, all I cared about, was delivering her to safety home.

Grigore was going to return, I knew that.

So I would wait for him, and use the girl's cabin as a refuge while I waited.

After a few hours of running, she had made it to a house, and as the door opened, a man appeared, and she flew into his arms, bloody, dirty, and crazed.

I felt a pang of jealousy shoot through me, and swore to myself, that if he hurt her, I would kill him in the most painful way I could imagine.

I found later found out that she was called Hanna, and as the years went by, I stayed there in the shadows, guarding her from the things that went 'bump in the night'. I lost care for anything else, and I didn't question why.

At night, I would patrol the area, making sure that Grigore had not returned, and then I would find her, and watch over her, until dawn would rise, and I was forced back to the cabin.

I woke up one evening, ten years after that night, and it was twilight outside, I went searching for Grigore, and when I was sure he hadn't returned, I made my way to Hanna's house, and followed her trail back into the forest, and up to cabin.

_What is she doing here?_

I looked inside, hidden by the night, and saw her, sleeping on the couch, a peaceful look on her face.

_Has she finally moved on from her grief?_

Hanna started to stir, and let out a yawn.

_Maybe she is here to see me._

I couldn't stop myself, it was illogical, and she didn't even know I existed.

But I went inside anyway.

It was a bad idea. I had spent so long caring for her, that I forgot what I was, a monster.

As she noticed me, her face froze with fear, she wasn't ready, and it was possible that she never would be.

I felt a keen ripple of rejection flow through my body, but I kept a straight face. Brushing the dust off the radio over the fireplace, I decided that the secret would have to wait, forever.

'Spero vobis potest invenire pacem.' I whispered

_I hope you can find peace._

It was the hardest thing I had ever done, leaving that place.

And when I saw her run from the cabin in terror, I fell to my knees clasping at my chest, as the pain of rejection tore me apart.

The only person I had ever loved, the girl I had dedicated my life to for ten years, was horrified by me.

I lay there for a long time, grieving, before I smelled it.

The scent I had loathed and prepared for all that time.

_Grigore!_

I got to my feet, and raced off, fear drowned out all other emotions.

_You childish fool!_ I thought. _What if he finds her?_

I moved quicker than ever before, and pushed myself harder than I thought possible. The trunks of trees vibrated as I flew past, and foliage flew with me as it got sucked into the slipstream behind me.

It must have taken half a minute to travel the distance she had covered, and as I exploded through the tree line, I saw her, Hanna, on the floor, screaming, highlighted by a solitary street lamp, Grigore was smiling, playing with her, as he moved slowly into the light.

He sensed my presence, and his eyes snapped to mine, I saw a look of terror on his face.

He was about to turn, and grab her, but I flew into him, and our momentum threw us clear straight into the forest.

_You're dead_, I thought_, I'll never let you hurt her!_

But I had forgotten my weapons.

He struggled free and took out his broadsword; I could see doubt in his eyes.

I must have looked fierce as I circled him, lips pulled back, showing my fangs.

'Let me go,' he stuttered out.

'Never,' I growled back.

He licked his lips, and withdrew a few paces.

'There are some people I was meaning to introduce you to,' He smiled, but I could see he was nervous. 'They are anxious to meet you.'

'You can't bluff your way out of this,' I smirked.

'I know,' He laughed as he looked into the forest, I could see his confidence grow visibly, as he looked back at me. 'But this isn't a bluff.'

Three sets of glowing red eyes flowed from the black forest, gleaming white fangs glinting in the darkness as they snarled.

'Make up your mind lover boy,' Grigore grinned, fear gone as he disappeared into the foliage, 'me, or the girl.'

Two of the dogs followed Grigore as he fled, while the other one skirted around me, growling. Its eyes locked on something on the street, and as it ran for the tree line, I saw the crowd shift, and I glimpsed her sitting a police cruiser, wrapped in a blanket, eyes wide with fear.

The werewolf hadn't moved far, and when I caught up I grabbed it by the its fur. With my left hand I tore off its jaw, and sunk my fangs deep into its neck. As I stood inside the tree line, and looked out, blood rushing down my throat, at Hanna. Her skin had gone a sickly green, blood covered her from where the branches had clawed at her arms.

Finishing off the wolf, I wiped my mouth.

_How fragile she is_...

_Thank god I got here in time._ I thought, and hauled the werewolf onto my shoulders, before walking off into the woods, leaving her behind.

A few days later, I returned to the cabin, and as I walked in, was shocked to see Hanna there again, standing, with an old blanket covering her. She was frozen in place, but the terror was gone, and in her eyes, I saw hope.

But fear flowed through me. Fear of rejection.

I spoke in Latin, afraid that English would betray the shaking in my voice.

'Cur habere vobis venit retro?' I whispered.

_Why have you come back?_

'_Vobis oportet relinquere,' _I said softly.

_You must leave._

I wasn't good for her, no matter how much I wanted her to stay.

Without permission, my body moved closer to her, I noticed her knees give way, and before she fell, I took her in my arms.

I could feel the fiery blood in her veins, and if I hadn't loved her, I would have drained her then

But she was tempting me in another way, a human way.

I wanted to spend the rest of enernity with her in my arms, and I wanted to make her happy, without a care.

But I couldn't see it happening, because monsters can't do good things.

'Cur facere vobis temptatis me ita?' I gasped.

_Why do you tempt me so?_ But I already knew the answer, as I looked into her eyes; I knew she wanted me too. My heart filled with joy, and I leaned in, closer to her.

'You're mine_,' _I said in English, and she fainted.

_And I am yours_.

I had to order in a few things, so I wrote a note, and left it on the table.

I knew Grigore wouldn't return for a while, he had underestimated me once, and wouldn't do so again, even with his canine friends.

Whipping out my phone, I ordered some food I thought she would like, and called the manger of a cookie company I knew she loved.

After I had sorted out the necessities, I took out a dress I had bought for her a few years ago, after I had overhead her talk about it with her friend, Kristine.  
>It had never been worn, and I knew Hanna would look great in it.<p>

I thought for a while, and realised that I wasn't sure what humans needed for 'day to day' life, seeing as I hadn't been out in the day for over a century.

I frowned, and came to a decision; I needed an old friend's advice. The travel to his house would take the rest of the night, so I wouldn't make it back by sunrise, which would leave her with the next day to spend alone. I was loath to leave her; but the trip had to be made. My friend still had memories of his human life, and was middle aged when he died; meaning he knew a lot more about humans than me.

So I left.

I had only just reached his house by sunrise, we talked through the day, and he advised me on what I had to do, so when the sun had gone back down, and the moon illuminated the sky, I had raced back...

Snapping out of my recollection, I looked into Hanna's eyes.

'To you,' I whispered.

She looked back at me for a moment, overwhelmed by what I had told her, before taking me in her arms, resting her head on my shoulder.

'I guess we're both broken, in our own way,' she whispered into my shirt.

Wrapping my arm around her, I kissed her on the head, and held her close. Bliss, isn't anything compared to what I was feeling.

'I was broken,' I said, as time began to blur, she pulled me tighter, 'but then you fixed me.'

* * *

><p>AN:

I tried some new things with this chapter, I hope you approve. :D

Oh, and how do you like Andrew's perspective? I'd love to hear what you thought! :)


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

**Past Forgotten**

_Flathead National Forest_

Hanna Tailor

_You are your memories. They shape you, guide you, and mould you._

_Your memories tell you when to run, and when to hide._

_But when something happens, something that will tear you apart, you have to ask yourself... Is that me? And when it's over, will it change you? _

_We are our memories. _

_So think back and ask... Who am I?_

* * *

><p>'I guess we're both broken, in our own way,' I whispered into his shirt.<p>

Wrapping his arm around me, he kissed my head, and held me close.

'I was broken,' he said, and as I pull him in, holding back tears, 'but then you fixed me.'

We lay on the sofa, the blanket wrapped around me, and his arms surrounded me. I told him about my fear, and how I had decided to search out the nightmare, which ended up being him. Andrew held me, smiling, listening, while he stroked my hair. I told him about Jerry, and he seemed surprised.

'You talked to the dead?' He asked. 'It's rare that they speak to the living, or so I'm told.'

I explained how the ghost had given me the courage to come to the cabin, face my grief, and confront my nightmares.

'It seems like I have a lot to thank old Jerry for.' He whispered.

I smiled, pulling him closer and stared into the glowing embers of the fire. We stayed like that for a long time, safe in each other's arms. I never wanted to leave, or move, or even breathe, so that the precious moments would never end. But the inevitable happened, and my stomach grumbled.  
>A faint rush of air, and I fell onto a pillow, and he was gone. I started to complain, until I smelt the faint scent of bacon, from the kitchen.<br>I gave up, and pulled the duvet over my head.  
><em>When did he put this on me?<em> I thought, angry at myself for being so unobservant.  
>I heard the bacon strips hit the frying pan, and start to sizzle. Licking my lips, I peeked over the sofa's arm, into the kitchen, where he cooked.<br>Dicing up some fresh cabbage, his arms moved in a blur. Throwing the vegetables onto a hot slice of granary bread, he took out a bottle, and poured some of the contents over the salad. As the bacon finished, he laid the slices over the sauce, and put another slice of bread over that. Then he was there, right in front of me, like he had just appeared before me, sandwich in hand.  
><em>I have to remember he isn't human<em>, I remind myself.  
>But I leant to touch his face anyway. He took my hand, and brushed my fingertips, across his cheek.<p>

'You must eat,' he told me, 'or you will die.'

I could see concern in his eyes, and so I laughed.

'I'm not that hungry yet.'

I take the sandwich anyway, and take a bite. The flavour is like nothing I had ever tasted before, it was so sharp, yet so sour, that it balanced out, and gave the sandwich a powerful flavour.

'What's in that sauce?' I gasp, taken aback.

He shrugs, as if the flavour isn't that good.

'It was the best I could find,' he says. 'I thought a little bit of werewolf would taste nice.'

_Werewolf? I_ thought.  
>Looking down at the sandwich, I took a deep breath, and choked. A strong smell of blood radiated from the meal, barely hidden by the smell of bacon.<br>I retch, and hand the sandwich back. But he is holding my face, looking into my eyes and frantic, extreme worry on his face.

'What is it?' He whines. 'Can't humans have werewolf blood?'

Despite cringing from what I had eaten, I couldn't help but laugh.

'I'm sure we can,' I say, 'but it isn't exactly first choice on the menu.'

He calms down.

'So you're not going to die?' He asks.

I smile, and place my hand on his cheek.

'I'll be okay.' I sigh, looking deep into his eyes.

_**BUZZZZZZ!**_

My phone distracts me, but I ignore it, not wanting to look away.

_**BUZZZZZZ!**_

It goes again, and he sighs.

_**BUZZZZZZ!**_

'That is probably Tom,' he says, 'You should pick it up.'

I sigh, and reach into my backpack, taking out my cell.

_Incoming call: TOM_

'Yeah, it's Tom,' I say, and hit answer. 'Hey, Tom, don't worry I'm okay.'

'Good to hear,' a voice replies. But it isn't Tom.

'Tell lover boy to come and save your foster father.' The menacing voice continues, 'tell him I'll be waiting.'

The man put the phone down, and I look up into Andrews eyes. Anger, fear, and worry, shows plainly on his face.

_Grigore_, I think, as I start to hyperventilate, _Tom_.

Andrew holds me in his arms, and kisses me on my forehead.

'I'll make this right,' he whispers. 'I'll end this for good.'

Then he was gone, and I was left alone in the forest, with the fear of loss threatening to tear me apart. I stumbled out into the cold night air, leaving my blanket behind.

_I have to find him_, but I don't know why.

_I have to warn him_, but I don't know where to find him.

_I have to tell him_, but I don't know what to say.

As I broke through the trees, onto the familiar wild flower path, and pulled myself together, and carryed on down the path. After a while of cutting myself to ribbons against the branches, I neared the end of the feral path. I was about to leave the tree line, when to my right, deep in the forest, I heard a scream.

I recognised the voice, _Andrew!_

I fell to my knees.

_Andrew Wheeler_

He wouldn't get away with it, I thought as I left the cabin behind. Killing Hanna's father was enough for him to deserve death, but kidnapping her foster father too?

Unspeakable rage filled my heart, but I surveyed the cabins surroundings, to make sure that Grigore wasn't hiding, as he waited for me to leave.

I was about to go off to Tom's house, when I noticed a smell. It was faint, and came from a mile west. _Werewolf_!  
>I chased after the beast, but the trail became denser, and I was forced into the canopy, which allowed me to gain on the wolf.<br>I had brought my daggers this time, and would use them to rip Grigore limb from limb.  
>The beast, started to slow down, and looked back, eyes searching the forest floor, trying to find me, so I positioned myself right above the werewolf, and dropped down. But the wolf jumped out of the way, just in time, for me to hit the ground, and trigger the trap.<br>Cables of thick steal ripped their way from the floor, bursting through the foliage, capturing me in a net. I grunted, as I heard more wolves appear from the forest.  
><em>I can't die like this!<em> I shout in my head,_ I have to save her!  
><em>As I struggled, a figure approached from behind me, and I felt Grigore's smile behind my back.

'You won't get away with this!' I shout, 'I'll kill you!'

Grigore, walked around the net, so that I could see him.

'Why?' He asked.

'What do you mean why?' I shouted back.

'Why do you want to kill me?' he asked, 'wasn't it you who attacked me first?'

I paused for a second, but then Hanna's face appeared in my head.

'To save her from you,' I snarl.

He sighs, and lays down, looking up at the sky.

'I thought it would be that,' he murmurs, 'After all, she has a startling resemblance.'

_What is he talking about?_ I thought to myself, sure that he was trying to trick me.

'Wait,' he said, and looked quickly to me. 'Don't tell me you still don't remember!'

Shock resonated through my body. _How does he know?_

I had been hunting Grigore for months before that night ten years ago. After I had found a picture of him in my wallet- with a credit card, and a cell phone- I didn't know who he was, all I knew, was that I was a vampire, I was called Andrew Wheeler, and I had to find, and kill the man in the photograph, I hoped that killing him would help me regain, my memories, but after Hanna, I didn't care about my past any longer, and the man (Grigore) could run free for all I cared.

'Ha-ha,' he laughed, 'so you still have amnesia then?'

I felt my strength sap away, as he leaned closer.

'And you still don't remember Andrea?' he asked.

_A memory, of an old woman, a doppelganger for what Hanna would look like in her old age._

'_Andrea,' a voice called, out, and she looked to me, a smile on her face._

'_Oh you're back_!'

The memory took me by surprise, and left me breathless. _My wife..._

Grigore licked his lips.

'Oh brother,' he smiled, 'little brother Andrei, you have no idea, she was the one for me.'

_I remember a flicker of a memory, Andrea dead in my arms, Grigore's blade coming down on me. _

_He killed her! My wife, Andrea, that's why I lost my memory_. My body started to seize up, and I looked back into his eyes.

'Poor little brother.'

_Grigore is my sibling!_

'Now I'll have to go deal with this freak of nature, before you regain your memory.' Grigore sighed, taking out his blade, before turning back towards the cabin, and disappearing into the trees.

_My brother killed my wife_. I think to myself, and as I realised that he was going to kill Hanna too, just for looking like Andrea, I felt terror flood through me, and I screamed.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

**Truths Unforgiven**

_Flathead National Forest_

Hanna Tailor

_When the dark is all you've known, the truth is hard to see, but when the night finally ends, and the sun falls upon you, everything is seen in a different light._

I couldn't take it any longer, all my life I had been weak, useless, good for nothing but grieving for someone dead. I was just another messed up kid, everyone felt sorry for me, but didn't really cared for me.

So when I heard Andrew cry out, I couldn't take it. Years of wishing I could change the past had broken me, and now that I had something to save, something that made me whole, I knew I couldn't go through the pain again. I wouldn't survive another ten years of regret, and somehow I knew, that I could change my fate, end the curse that fell upon my loved ones. I got to my feat, and moved into the depths of the forest; a bright full moon shone through the canopy, scattering the light across a dense forest floor, in soft beams of light.  
>It was dark enough that I couldn't see ten paces in front of me. Blood red flowers were scattered across the forest floor, oddly vibrant in the night, silence following me. Animals fell quiet, and watched, transfixed by me, I noticed a deer, it watched me as it stood, holding a red flower in its mouth, I blinked and it was gone, so I moved on. The world began to blur, the trees melted together, and I heard Andrew's cry echo through my mind, the memory repeated over and over. My heart lurched, and I prayed.<br>I didn't know where I was going any more, I just ran, and ran, until I couldn't run any more, my eyes burned, my sides ached, and I was gasping for air. I leant hard against the trunk of a gigantic oak, and fell to my knees.

_Not again..._

Jerry's ghost had told me to go to the cabin, so I could find Andrew, but why?  
>Surely he hadn't wanted me to learn about him, just so he could die and leave me, like my father did. I rubbed the tears from my eyes, and decided that I would be strong for Andrew. If he died, then so would I, because I knew that this time I wouldn't survive. I looked around again, and noticed for the first time, just how silent the forest was. It was like the life had been sucked out of the ancient trees. Where the moon light had once fallen through the treetops, there was only darkness. I felt evil radiate from the pitch black void between the trees, and the forest held its breath.<p>

'Hello my dove,' a voice whispered from the wood.

'Andrew!' I called out hopefully, staggering towards the voice. But it didn't reply.

Eyes wide open, I held onto a tree, my eyes searching the darkness, I couldn't see the hand in front of my face. But I could hear the scrape of metal against metal, like a chef sharpening his knife, it was faint, but it was close by.  
>A giggle echoed around me, and I shrank back.<p>

_Grigore._

I felt a hand run down my back, gently, like the caress of a lover.

'You are so like her, it hurts.' Grigore whispered from the shadows.

I felt something fly by me, and my dress sagged. He had cut my shoulder strap straight through.

'Did he make you wear that?' He asked darkness in his voice.

I shrank backwards, fear running through my body, but tripped on a log.

I heard the crack of a branch in front of me, a shiver ran through my body, I scurried backwards, but my head hit something.

Stars in my eyes, I felt him standing over me, his eyes piercing my soul.

'The irony is quite amusing,' Grigore smiled and knelt before me; he grabbed my hair, and took deep breaths.

'You even smell like her.'

Standing up, he stepped back a pace, and drew a gigantic claymore from his back, the blade was four feet long, and four inches wide.

'I normally use my hands for humans,' He licked his lips. 'It's far more intimate. But you deserve a quicker death, for my brother's sake.'

'Brother?' I whispered, barely choking out the word.

Grigore smirked.

'Do we look so different?'

I looked at Grigore, and tried to find something that proved his story.

'Yes, you do look different. He's beautiful, and you're ugly.' I said as I flinched, waiting for him to strike me. But as I glanced up again, I saw shock on his face, and for a moment, pain.

He hid his emotions, and raised his sword.

_Flathead national forest_

Andrew Wheeler

After dealing with the wolves, I flew through the forest, but my mind wandered into the kingdom of my past, and memories took hold, I felt myself relive what once was.

_I smoothed back my slick brown hair, and took a deep breath of the cold night. Turning to my brother, Grigore, I smirked._

_'What shall we eat tonight?'_

_He glanced at me for a moment, and returned his gaze over the city._  
><em>I took out a small capsule of concentrated mint extract, and popped it in my mouth, allowing the fresh flavour to roll over my tongue. Making sure not to swallow any, I waited for the flavour to become stagnant, and threw the capsule off the side. We were sitting on top of the newly built Eiffel tower, the year was 1889, and below us, Paris's world fair was in full swing, as the humans scurried around their buildings. Thick veins of smoke rose from thousands of chimney stacks, obscuring a beautiful full moon.<em>

_'What do you fancy brother, a Chinese, maybe an Indian?' Grigore replied._

_I sighed, and closed my eyes._

_'Do you remember the taste of Truffles, Grigore, or the pleasant burning sensation of port hitting the back of your throat?'_

_He licked his lips, and turned to face me,_

_'No brother, I do not. The only taste I can bare is that of blood.'_

_I grimaced and looked away._

_'Does that make us monsters brother?' I asked._

_When he didn't reply, I looked back at him. He was staring at the humans below, as they shopped, laughed and danced in the streets._

_'Yes Andrew, I believe it does.'_

_He took a deep breath, groaned a long exasperated sigh, and licked his lips._

_'I think I'd like an Italian tonight.' He smirked, and jumped out into the night sky..._

_What happened brother, why did you kill my wife?_

I knew that I loved Grigore, as a brother, and as a friend. But I couldn't allow him to harm Hanna; I'd kill him before he could.  
>I followed his scent, pushing myself to my limit.<p>

_Dear god, please be alive._

In the distance, I heard Grigore shout out in disbelief, and then again, before I heard the cracking sound of a tree being ripped from its roots.

_What the hell is going on out there?_

_Flathead National Forest_

Hanna Tailor

'Forgive me brother.' He whispered under his breath. 'But she must be ended.'

Grigore's muscles tensed, and the sword flew towards my head.  
>I closed my eyes, and felt an odd calm fall upon me. No more pain, no more grief, in one clean stroke of Grigore's blade, it would all end. But the blade never came, and as I opened my eyes, I saw something impossible, something beyond comprehension.<br>Grigore's blade was inches from my throat, but someone had grabbed his arm.

The man twisted, and Grigore was flung backwards. Smashing into a tree, he lost grip of his sword. He looked at the man, anger on his face, but when Grigore recognised the man, he froze. The moments crawled by, and suddenly, the recognition was too much for Grigore.

'No!' He shouted. 'You're dead!'  
>The man ripped a tree from its roots, and threw it, like a spear, at Grigore.<br>Grigore swiped up his sword, before the tree hit him, and blasted him into the woods. A moment later, Andrew entered the small clearing, clothes torn to shreds.

'It looks like you got here just in time my friend,' he grinned.

'I could never leave her, you know that.' The man replied.

I still couldn't believe my eyes, and as the man turned to look at me I gaped, tears streaking down my cheeks.

'Father,' I choked out.

'Daughter,' Ethan Fletcher replied, red eyes, falling softly to mine.

* * *

><p>AN: Once again, sorry for the irregular updates. Busy man is busy. :(


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